


Profit Sharing

by altilis



Category: Avengers (Comic), Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes, Marvel (Movies), Thor (2011)
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Begging, Community: kink_bingo, Crossdressing, Dubious Consent, F/M, Gangbang, Genital Torture, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-21
Updated: 2011-07-21
Packaged: 2017-10-21 15:28:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/226716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altilis/pseuds/altilis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you hit a gold mine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Profit Sharing

**Author's Note:**

> I started this at least three different times before settling on this. Thanks to [](http://cero-ate.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**cero_ate**](http://cero-ate.dreamwidth.org/) and [](http://sullacat.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**sullacat**](http://sullacat.dreamwidth.org/) for the jumpstart!

SHIELD doesn't go looking for Loki—for once—but they find him nonetheless, this time loitering outside a club in Moscow with a couple associates of Dr. Doom. Coulson stares at the surveillance feed: five men stand in a circle dressed in expensive suits, while Loki stands at the center of their attention, clad in a black dress with long sleeves and a high collar. The camera's not exactly clear, and Loki keeps moving as he charms the men around him, but Coulson can tell there is a break about his knees between the skirt and Loki's black boots.

He wonders if Loki intends to be seen in public like this. He wonders what the Avengers would do if they saw him.

Coulson brings the transceiver to his mouth, "Barton, bring them down. Get our stylish friend if you can—try that new shock arrow."

"Got it," Barton replies. Coulson watches the feed. Nothing happens for a few moments, and then everything happens at once: an arrow hits Loki in the lower back with a visible, electric crackle, while the others are taken down with ropes that explode out of mid-air and less violent shocks. Coulson allows himself a small smirk before he orders his men in, knowing he doesn't have much time.

He looks to the side at one of their men on communications. "Get the Avengers on the line. Tell them we have something they might want."

\--

Loki wakes to a cold chill that pricks at the exposed skin of his thighs. Something about the way he's lying leaves them unprotected; cold air curls under the skirt of the dress. He opens his eyes and sees nothing but black; he frowns. Loki tries to reach for his face, but his hands are caught behind his back. The restraints feel like steel cuffs, thick and heavy and clamping down on nearly half his forearm. He gives them a tentative pull, and in his momentary weakness, they hold.

His magic still rebels after the nasty shock he suffered earlier. Loki remembers the electricity screaming through him, through his nerves, and his back still aches because of it. The ache swells as Loki pushes himself onto his side. The floor underneath him is not exactly soft, but springy, and it gives slightly as he digs his knee into it. His attempt to sit up falters the first time, so he's glad the floor isn't too solid, but it's all—strange.

It's probably Doom's idea of another 'experiment.' Fine, he'll play along.

As Loki tugs at the cuffs again, he hears the click and push of a door knob from his left. His head cocks to the side, and he listens to a parade of footsteps muffled against the floor. Some stop far away, some edge closer, and suddenly a heavy weight drops in front of him and lips bite and kiss at his own. His sound of surprise is muffled into the kiss, and a hand at the back of his neck grips his hair (should have cut it earlier) and keeps him from pulling away. Loki knows it's a man, at least, unless this woman has very unusual facial hair that scratches at Loki's chin. Another weight drops behind him.

The skirt’s pushed up towards his waist, and Loki can’t stop it, not without surrendering the balance he has on his knees. A hand cups his cock, palm rubbing through the thin, soft material of his panties. Loki jerks, pulling his hips back, but there's a hand at the small of his back, too, that slides down to his buttocks and keep him in place. Fingers toy with his hair, too, and Loki wonders how many he has around him and how much attention he’s going to get.

The kiss breaks, the hand around his cock tightens, and all he hears is a distant, breathed "yeah" before it releases. He's pushed onto his back with hands at his hip and shoulders guiding him to the floor. There, a softer mouth begins to kiss him, tasting of honey chapstick, and Loki returns this one while hands pull at the laces of both his dress and his boots. The dress won't come off completely with his hands still bound, but they can pull down the collar to reveal his neck and push the skirt up higher on his waist. Fingers stroke reverently over his knees and thighs, across his collar bone, and finally back to his cock.

Someone pulls the panties away while someone else takes him in hand, stroking leisurely. Loki's back arches up and he gasps; for a brief moment, nothing else touches him. Then, he gets another soft, sweet kiss before a finger nudges his chin up, and something hard and moist nudges at his parted lips. Loki feels his cheeks flush as his mind scrambles to remember the last time he did _this_ , but he still opens his mouth wider and takes the cock into his throat.

At almost the same time, a hot mouth engulfs his own cock, leaving Loki reeling, moaning around the cock in his mouth. Hands draw his knees apart. Nails scratch at his inner thigh. A finger, slicked with what feels like oil, slides low and presses in. The oil warms inside him, and then becomes almost too hot, burning, enough that he feels the heat crawl up through his chest. It’s just another test, Loki thinks, something made out of mortal science that he won’t surrender to. Grasping at his self-control, Loki hollows his cheeks; he hears a moan from above him. It sounds familiar, but he can't pinpoint it (at the moment). A hand strokes his neck, straddling the line between rough and rewarding.

The finger inside of him soon turns to two, then three, and they fuck him slow, stroking at his prostate. Loki's hips roll until a hand fixes tight on his balls, squeezing until it hurts. His eyes water, and he stills. The cock in his mouth slides deep, and Loki gags as he tastes salty come. As it pulls back, the tip brushes his lips, and he turns his head away just as the fingers pull out of him to be replaced with a hard cock that slides balls-deep inside him. Loki gasps at the stretch, and another cock slides into his mouth.

The two who fuck him share different rhythms. It disorients him as he struggles to pull up his hips and loosen his throat at the same time. There's a desperate edge to the one below, a need to fuck him open with a strange, almost military precision—but there's still that grip around his balls (a different hand now), gripping tight and thoroughly mixing his pleasure and pain. Hands grip tight at his hips, keeping him still and steady. As if he could run away.

The one at his hips still with a long groan, and soon the cock in his mouth presses in, too, and Loki gags for a moment while he hears a kiss above him. Again, come streaks his lips, and Loki tries to lick it away before becomes sticky.

But another tongue touches his lips, licks away the come, and then kisses him—deep, slow, tender, with hair that again scratches at Loki's chin. His brows furrow at the change, trying to see if it is the man from before, when someone slides down on his cock. Muscles clench with the strength of a woman, and Loki is momentarily dazed as she rides him, kissing back at whoever without thinking, also forgetting the last time he had this privilege.

The kiss continues, but it doesn't fit with the rushed, demanding need of the woman who digs her hands into his knees for her own balance. A large hand cups his face, and the lips draw away from his mouth to plant gentle touches against his cheek, his nose, his forehead. When Loki breathes in, shuddering, and catches an unmistakable scent—he knows.

" _Thor,_ " Loki whispers. He thinks about what Thor must see, the way he is open, trembling, sweating, what he must think about it. Thor doesn't answer him and stops kissing him, but his hand lingers on Loki's jaw, thumb absently rubbing over his chin. The lack of confirmation frustrates him and makes his throat burn with impatience.

His hips snap up into the woman above him—it must be Wasp, Jan—and he hears a soft moan as muscles clench around him. “Way to go, Thor,” she says, breathless, and there’s a chorus of soft chuckles around them.

A hand covers Jan’s on Loki’s knee; one of the fingers is moist. “Come on, Jan,” someone whispers, and Loki snaps his hips again. It’s Pym—he’s certain of it when he hears them kiss.

There’s another chuckle, somewhere above Loki’s head. “You better hurry up,” says another (Tony, by the vocal swagger).

“Do you always say that to a lady?” The last one is Steve, and Loki actually feels himself flush at his voice. He didn’t think the man had it in him for such carnal pleasures.

“Thor looks like he’s about to push her off.” Yet no sooner does Tony say this than Jan comes with a satisfied moan, pushing down on Loki until she’s done and leaves Loki’s cock slick. The smug satisfaction of pleasing the girl (instead of her beloved Hank) wars with the dark excitement of knowing Thor now has free reign.

Thor's hand moves down, never leaving his body, ghosting over what remains of Loki's dress and down to his thighs. He settles between Loki's legs, close enough that Loki can wrap his legs around Thor's hips and feel the brush of his cock. Excitement builds low in Loki's stomach. He remembers Thor's intimacy from the few times his brother will surrender it to him. It's always been a reward unto itself.

"Not yet," Thor says as Loki pulls them closer together. He places large, callused hands on Loki's hips and holds him still.

"When?" Loki shifts his hips between Thor's grip. It tightens, immobilizing those movements, so Loki arches up instead. "I _ache_ , Thor." He hears his brother give a low chuckle, and one hand releases and cups his balls, fingers curling around them and pulling them down slightly. “Don’t,” he murmurs, but Thor doesn’t relent.

"What were you doing before this, Loki?"

Loki heaves a sigh of frustration. "Sucking cock, I believe—"

" _Before_ ," Thor says, his hand pulling down more, and Loki exhales a sharp breath at the pressure. "In Moscow."

"Business."

Thor's fingers fall away, and for a moment Loki can breathe easier, until he feels a light slap against his balls. There's no sound from the impact, the pain shoots through him, and Loki arches with pain and indignation. "Thor!" he shouts, "Stop this! How could you steep so low as to—"

"You enjoy it," Thor says, quiet and confident. Loki's chest heaves with short breaths. He's half-right: Loki's still hard, but that's from the attention alone, surely. "But I will not remain gentle if you stay silent."

"You say it as if you could wound me." (Like he hasn't already.) "Cease the heroics, brother, and we can enjoy this as we should...”

Another slap, harder, and Loki writhes as the pain swamps him again. Thor says nothing.

Loki sets his jaw and thinks for a moment (though that is remarkably hard to do with Thor's fingers resting right there). The heart of a good lie was always the truth, so..."The Doctor would like some new weapons," he says, turning his head to the side. "I was investigating them for him."

Thor's hand moves away to return to his hip, and Loki waits for a long, uncertain moment before Thor kisses him. Loki returns it rough, a little desperate, but he falters as Thor eases into him. Then, he pulls Loki up onto his lap (where he can hold Loki close, where they can press their temples together, where Loki can mutter dark things in Thor's ear) and fucks him like no one else can or will ever be allowed to, hard and fast and overwhelming. Loki swears and curses Thor's name, uncaring who hears or sees.

\--

Clint stands in the surveillance booth. He's surrounded by large screens watching every inch of the compound, but his eyes have been glued on exactly one screen for the past half-hour. His pants feel uncomfortably tight, and he feels like he should go out and do something—but the people on video keep moving. He's never seen gods fuck, and he probably never will again.

"They're still here?" Clint jumps a little at Coulson's voice. He glances over reluctantly.

"Yeah." He looks back at the screen. "Is this a perk for being an Avenger, or what? How come you never do these things for Widow and me?"

Coulson gives him a patient look. "You never ask."

**Author's Note:**

> Also at [Dreamwidth](http://altilis.dreamwidth.org/25770.html).


End file.
